So after the great "blizzard of 07" last week, I finally emerged from my apartment on Thursday (this was after 4 days of the city being shut down.) What I saw in the parking lot was a number of Texans banging at the ice on their cars with a number of kitchen utensils, the most popular of which was a spatula, but which also included a potato masher.
I calmly walked to my Rodeo. (I drive an Isuzu Rodeo, I figured heck- if you're not gonna ride a horse in Texas, you better be driving a Rodeo.) You know the music that plays when there's a showdown in a Western Movie? you know... "oo-oo-oo-oo-ooooooo" while the tumbleweed goes by, and the citizens crouch and hide and the camera comes in at a low angle zoom on the hero? Well that was playing. After hip checking my front door a few times I broke through the 2 inches of ice and forced the door the rest of the way with my brute strength (they breed 'em tough where I'm from.) The Texans all stopped in their tracks as I unveiled what would soon be the envy of the whole neighborhood.... a gigantic ice scraper the likes of which these parts ain't never seen. You know the kind I'm talking about. 3 feet long with 2 scrapers on one end (one side with teeth and one side flat) and a brush. You could hear the whispers all around... "what's that she got there? is that a horse groomer? I ain't never seen a groomer like that afore." They all marveled as I hacked at the ice on my car like a yankee ninja. I shouted the occasional "KEE-YA!" just for effect. Just to let them know what they were dealing with. It occurred to me that I might chip the paint on my car by hacking like this, but I couldn't be bothered with details. They were watching me like hawks, I was there Sensei.
I smiled upon my people-- "Would you like to use my ice scraper?" I asked? they were quick to shake the stars from their eyes and resume their tiresome chipping with vegetable peelers and garlic mincers. "No, no m'am. we're doing just fine."
One gentleman had the good sense to approach me with a question only I could answer. "I hear that salt works to melt this stuff... is that true?" "Yes" I answer. He tells me that he has some upstairs and returns minutes later with some Mortons. He proceeds to sprinkle table salt on our steps. Now let me pause for a moment and insert some commentary here.... this actually happened. he actually sprinkled table salt on our steps, and I nearly died. I crawled slowly back into my apartment shook out my shoes and when I finally stopped laughing I thought. "Go Alta, go and tell your story..."
And a Dog Named Boo: 1936
1 hour ago